For some people, picnics are but a mere trivial joy in life to enjoy at the best of times as a most splendiferous experience.
For other people, picnics are a dark and dank descent into the seventh circle of HELL! 👹
That’s what we’re here to help with today. The deleterious and chronic condition of picnic addiction. Where eating foodstuffs outdoors reaches such a proportion it overwhelms their life and turns them into a monster.
When One Picnic Simply Isn’t Enough
Disclaimer: For the love of God, don't take our medical advice seriously! We're wrong about EVERYTHING.
Dear Dr. Moron,
I need help! It started off innocent enough. This summer me and the family went for a picnic in Whittle-le-Woods near where the family home is. It were a dead good picnic, too! We had scones! We had whipped cream! Then I broke out the mushy peas and butter pies and me family lost it! Hysterics, they was in. Never in me life has I seen so much shrieking of delight.
That were it. I were hooked from there.
We had a picnic the next week. Then the week after that. Then I started having a picnic every second day. Before I knew it, we was having a picnic EVERY SINGLE BLOODY DAY and now it’s the dead of winter, temperatures are below freezing, and we’re there going out every day with out blanket, wicker baster, and butter pies to sit there shivering and NO WE’RE NOT HAVING A GOOD TIME. It’s awful!
But I can’t stop it!
The wife is beside herself! Yesterday she was halfway shivering through a scone when she lost it, “THIS HAS GOT TO STOP, FRANK! THIS HAS GOT TO STOP!” The kids burst into tears and I were left sitting there, looking at me half frozen mushy peas, frostbite in me right foot, early onset of hypothermia kicking in…
And I known it then I’d hit rock bottom…
I went to see me GP this morning to explain me illness. He asked me to leave his surgery and said I were being “ridiculous”. So as I last resort I’m resorting to you, a quack doctor, hoping you can dish out some hardcore drugs to get me over this crisis.
Yours, Frank
Hi there, Frank! That’s a shocker, that one. Puts Requiem for a Dream to shame, that does. The tell-tale signs of picnic addiction include, but aren’t limited to:
- Hosting picnics at absurd times of day or night.
- Picnicking to the extent you risk death.
- Having withdrawal symptoms if you skip a picnic, such as delirium and hallucinations about actually having a picnic.
- Becoming verbally abusive if anyone criticses picnicking.
- For example, if someone says picnics are “stupid” you may respond to that assertion with a blind, irrational rage.
- Coming to believe life isn’t worth living without picnics.
Whilst it’s true you could become a drug addict to deal with your picnic problem, that’ll just leave you with another addiction alongside a far more serious one.
Ultimately, unless you control this picnic addiction you’ll face serious consequences. That can include:
- Nagging from your wife.
- Cessation on your status as a human being who is alive.
- Awkward glances from your kids.
- Extreme depletion of the UK’s supply of cocktail sticks.
What you’re doing, Frank, is selfish, self-absorbed, obnoxious, and above all else… dangerous. You need to cut this shit out, matey!
How to do it? Cold turkey, mate.
Literally. Get some pre-packed cold turkey from a store and sit there, at home, munching on that. It’ll wean you off the picnicking (probably). Maybe. Who knows?!
